Hanging Wreaths
by beamirang
Summary: As the crew get ready to celebrate the holiday, McCoy recalls his first Christmas with Jim. Family/Friendship fluff with a smatter of h/c and a healthy dose of eggnog.
1. Chapter 1

I couldn't resist a little Christmassy fluff now that _Genesis_ is complete. This is a four parter that should hopefully tide you over until the New Year when we can kick back off again with premium angst! There will be some wee!Jim Christmas, some Jim!and!Bones being BFFs, a teeny tiny bit of h/c and lots of fluff. I'm shameless.

This story is set about nine months after _Genesis. _Much of the first scene is lifted from the episode 'The Trouble with Tribbles'. I watched it again recently and couldn't help but wonder how this new Kirk would react to his crew getting in a bar fight with Klingons…

* * *

Eleven Fleet Officers stood in a neat row. Hanger Bay D was quiet at this time during Beta Shift and the nervous stillness of the stationary officers made it quite clear that they were grateful for the lack of witnesses.

McCoy shared a glance with Spock, who was beside him, serene in his customary stance. Before leaving Earth, McCoy had never expected to see amusement on a Vulcan's face, nor had he anticipated his own enjoyment at seeing it.

Nor, and here was the biggest change, had he ever, not once in a month of Sundays, expected to see James Kirk at a loss for words.

Yet here they all were.

Most of the senior Bridge crew stood at attention in front of their pacing Captain. Most of them were bruised, all of them looked sheepish, and one or two of them –like Uhura, dear god, _Uhura_!- looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole.

Kirk had been caught in the shower when the comm. from Space Station K11 had come through the channels. He had dressed in haste, boots on, but only his blacks. His incomplete uniform lacked the rank and insignia of his office, and his tousled hair only helped make him look every inch the young man that he was. Out of the crew present, only Chekov was younger. That hadn't really helped anyone when he'd beamed down into the middle of a bar brawl and had to fish half his crew out from the mêlée. He'd picked up his own bumps in the process, but no one could wear a black eye with as much casual grace as Jim Kirk and so no one paid it much attention.

"So let me get this straight…" Jim pinched his nose as he paced in front of his crew. McCoy made a mental note to prescribe him a fresh dose of painkillers. Jim was absurdly healthy when he wasn't bleeding from various body parts, but he was prone to some particularly wicked headaches when he got overly stressed. And when Jim got a headache, it usually wasn't long before McCoy had one as well. "After telling you, all of you, most categorically and emphatically to play nice with the other kids…"

Spock's eyebrow quirked as he glanced in McCoy's direction. While in orbit overseeing the transfer of supplies to SSK11, Kirk had instructed all off duty personnel to beam down to the station for an evening of well deserved shore leave. Jim had been eager to see his crew get some personal time after a trying few weeks and had liaised with the station crew to ensure the best possible rotations during the transfer. There wasn't much exciting about SSK11, but it was a change of scenery and a port popular with passing ships from all quadrants.

Currently on site were several Federation vessels, an Orion Cruiser and two Klingon Birds of Prey.

The Federation wasn't on poor terms with the Klingon Empire, but neither were they bosom buddies. _The Enterprise_ had only encountered one Klingon vessel in their nine months of active service, and naturally, said vessel and its crew were currently seeking their own R&R on SSK11. Jim had known as much, and after an incredibly passive aggressive conversation with the Klingon Captain, had signed off on the leave. Despite their aggressive natures, there was no tactical benefit in starting a war with the Federation over shared shore leave space and so a truce had been made.

The two crews would do their best to ignore one another, and Jim, in a surprising moment of trust, had not felt it necessary to accompany the parties beaming down.

After all, he was the only person on board who had ever shown a proclivity for getting into bar fights, and if he could resist the urge then his mature and professional crew should have little difficulty.

Sometimes Jim could be so adorably naive. McCoy could count on one hand the number of fights he'd been in before meeting Jim. The same could not be said since. Most of the times, Jim hadn't started them. Hell, some of the times he hadn't even been present.

Jim stopped in front of Chekov. The young Ensign had two black eyes and didn't seem in the least bit troubled by them. He wasn't the only crew member injured - hence McCoy's presence - but they were all on their own feet, not too worse for wear, and far be it from him to rescue them from a good Kirk tongue lashing.

Idiots, the lot of them.

"Does someone want to tell me who started it?" Jim stared at his young navigator and McCoy felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid. The Captain was _pissed._ McCoy knew him well enough to know that he was also seriously bemused. "Mr Chekov?"

Chekov remained silent.

"Seriously? Am I going to have to confine you all to quarters for this shit? Who started the fight?"

It was telling that Jim didn't even consider the fact that the Klingons would have thrown the first punch. It was alarming how similar their thought process could be – Jim made a promise on his honor, he kept it. The same could be said for Klingons. Not that both parties wouldn't push the boundaries on said promise. And push. And push...

McCoy's eyebrow reached his forehead when a senior officer in red stepped forwards. "There's no need to punish the lads, Captain. I threw the first punch I did."

Jim's jaw hit the floor, but he recovered quickly. "Scotty? What the hell did they do to make _you_ throw punches?" A redheaded cliché though he was, Scott was even less prone to violence than McCoy was.

"It wasn't what they did, per say." Scott hedged. His nose was still bleeding sluggishly.

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "Are you telling me my senior crew – all of you battle tested, experienced officers – started a bar fight with a bunch of Klingons over a few insults? What the hell?"

"They said wery awful things, Keptain!" Chekov spluttered.

"Like what?" Jim demanded.

Chekov looked at Sulu, who was relatively uninjured, sneaky bastard.

"Is this off record, sir?" Uhura asked, her posture betraying her nerves.

"No it damn well isn't!" Jim bellowed.

The assembled crew all flinched. Jim didn't get angry, not with them at any rate. The most they'd gotten out of him was a stern reprimand or the occasional glare.

"You started a flight with a potentially hostile race in the middle of a civilian establishment, while in uniform, while _drinking_ and I want to know why!"

"The Klingon Captain," Uhura spoke up, her bottom lip bleeding. "He called you," her face twisted in distaste, "an upstart child; an arrogant, insolent maggot with delusions of god-hood."

Jim blinked. McCoy snorted. "Is that it?"

"He also compared you with a Denuvian Slime Demon." Chekov said unhappily.

"And you felt the need to defend my honor…" Jim sighed. "McCoy calls me worse things over breakfast. It's his life's mission to come up with a new insult for me every other day."

"Sometimes it isn't even that infrequent." McCoy put in helpfully, smirking when Jim turned an angry scowl on him.

"He also said he'd like to take you over his knee and show you-" Uhura looked slightly apologetic.

"Yes! Okay, I get it, thank you very much." Jim rubbed the back of his head. That had been a problem the first time they had encountered the warrior race. They had taken one look at Jim and failed to take him seriously based on his youth, his size, and his good looks. "You seriously mean to tell me that you risked a war because a Klingon called me names?" He directed the question to Scott, who rapidly shook his head before cringing at the movement.

"Oh no sir!"

"I did, sir." Sulu said unapologetically. McCoy always did like Sulu the best.

Jim ignored him. "Then what?" He demanded.

"They called _The Enterprise_ a garbage dump!" Scott exclaimed in outrage. "I mean, it's one thing to insult our Captain, but as ye said, the good doctor does that on a fairly regular basis like, and you've never seemed to mind the odd verbal barb in the past sir-" Jim's expression shifted to incredulous and McCoy had to cough loudly into his elbow to hide his laughter. "But you cannae call _The Enterprise _garbage and no expect a thump on the nose! It's a matter of pride it is!"

Jim's mouth opened and closed again without sound. He turned from Scotty but spun back around quickly. "Garbage dump? That was Kor, wasn't it? That bastard-"

"Captain." Spock's voice was without inflection but it killed Jim's decent to his crew's level more effectively than the sternest shout.

"I mean…fuck, I don't even..." He shook his head. "No more fighting! The Brass will think I've been teaching you bad habits."

Someone snorted and the line fell deathly silent as Jim's ire rose again rapidly. Eventually Chekov timidly piped up. "You are not angry, Keptain?"

"I'm furious." Jim said, sounding his usual cheerful self once more. "You're all confined to quarters when not on duty. I'll lift that restriction for the person who can come up with the best bullshit line for me to feed the Admiralty when I have to explain to them why we aren't allowed back on SSK11. Dismissed."

For all that they moved fluidly, orderly and without running, the Bay emptied in record time.

"Captain, if I may," Jim nodded to Spock's query. "Your expression of anger is remarkably similar to your expression of joy."

"I know, right?" Jim laughed. "I can't believe I had to yell at people for fighting. I feel like such a hypocrite."

"Speaking of fighting," McCoy pulled out his tricorder and ran it over Jim's face to check he hadn't fractured a cheekbone when he'd hit Kor's fist with his skull. "Want me to patch that up before you talk to the old man?"

"Hmm, probably a good idea." Jim agreed. He and Spock followed McCoy towards Medical. Despite Deck 7 being incredibly busy, there were perks to walking with the Captain – especially a Captain covered in bruises and whose shouting had likely been heard around the ship – and people scattered out of the way, a snappy salute at the ready.

"I can't believe your girlfriend got into a bar fight." Jim smirked in Spock's direction. From the furrow to his brow, it looked like Spock was in a similar predicament.

"It is most unlike her character." He said, before catching himself and correcting, "Lieutenant Uhura is not-"

"Save the bullshit for someone who doesn't have a pounding headache." Jim said not unkindly.

"You staying properly hydrated?" McCoy checked. Thanks to someone higher up the food chain – McCoy suspected it was Pike – Jim had been assigned a Yeoman who had made it her sole purpose on the ship to harass, harangue and bully Jim into getting his three square meals a day. Some days that meant literally chasing him around with food. Others it meant bribery, blackmail and the occasional threat to have Spock sit on him. McCoy was impressed with her creativity. Jim had a strict 'hands off' policy when it came to his crew and behaved himself but she was a pretty thing, just Jim's type, which meant he didn't tell her to get fucked quite as often as he did his doctor.

McCoy's tricorder beeped and displayed its results as they entered sickbay. "Blood oxygen level dependent has dropped," he read aloud, 'inflated cortical hemispheres are showing substantial suppression…"

"In a language we all understand, please Bones." Jim grumbled, rubbing his head.

"Means you have a headache, brat." McCoy caught him in the neck with his hypo. Despite Jim's yelp and angry glare, the rush of muscle relaxants eased the tension in his body and would assist in reducing the effects of a tension headache. He'd also thrown in a light painkiller.

"I just told you that!" Jim snapped.

"Yeah, well, I'm taking you off duty for the next eight hours." McCoy entered the data into his log and uploaded into the server. "Sleep it off."

"I don't need to sleep anything off, Bones. I'm busy."

"You're standing in my sickbay. Admitting you are in pain. The fact that the world isn't ending around us as we speak is, quite frankly, something of a shock."

"I came here to get de-bar-faced before I talk to Pike. Which I can't do if you take me off duty."

Damn, McCoy had forgotten about that.

"I will talk to Admiral Pike." Spock said serenely. "I believe you were in the middle of your off duty routine when we were summoned to Space Station K11. It would be prudent for you to continue as you were. I was myself on duty at the time and am more than capable of reporting on your behalf."

"Excellent." McCoy slapped Spock on the back before Jim could stammer out an argument. "Now you can both leave me in peace, I have catalogues to arrange."

He gave Jim a firm shove out of the door, relieved that he could trust Spock to see Jim back to his quarters without 'getting distracted' by ship's business.

He settled back into his office and drank in the quite peace. There he was, enjoying himself in space while Jim acted responsible and sensible folk like Uhura and Chekov were getting in fist fights with aliens. There _he_ was, trusting Jim's health to someone who nine months ago had shown not even a single shred of compassion or human feeling.

Time was a funny thing, he thought, selecting the next article on his PADD and bringing it up on screen.

* * *

A week later and Jim had long lifted the restriction he had placed on his crew. He was a little like McCoy had been when he'd first had to punish Joanna for misbehaving: initially angry and vindicated in his actions, but quickly feeling like he was the one being punished.

McCoy blamed that for Jim's heightened level of twitchiness. It wasn't until he came to get his usual breakfast from the replicator his toast came out cut into the shape of a Christmas Tree that he even realized the date.

Traveling in space, with no daylight and a twenty-four hour shift rotation, it often became hard to know what day of the week it was. Even keeping regular logs failed to translate into a genuine understanding of how the year was progressing around them.

"Jim, it's over four weeks until Christmas." McCoy said as soon as the Captain took a seat beside him, coffee replaced with eggnog and his cereal sprinkled liberally with cinnamon. There was no doubt the tree shaped toast was Jim's doing- he'd done exactly the same in the Academy. "And last time I checked, nearly sixty percent of the crew come from faiths or cultures that don't even celebrate it."

"I know." Jim said, his mouth full. "Which is why I'm organizing a totally non denominational celebration of awesomeness in which everyone can bring their own ideas to the table and fun will be had by all."

He drained the eggnog in three messy gulps. McCoy was too pleased to see him actually eating to kick up a fuss about nutritional content. "I don't know, Jim…"

"Don't be a humbug, Bones." Jim nudged him with his elbow. "I'm gonna need your help."

McCoy paused, knife in hand with jelly poised to smear over the toast. Alarm bells started ringing in his head. They sounded exactly like a red alert and he looked around in panic, wondering why no one else seemed to hear them.

Jim finished his bowl of cereal and stole McCoy's toast. The alarm continued to wail.

* * *

Jim announced his Totally Non Denominational Celebration of Awesomeness later that day and by the end of Beta Shift had already heard back from a third of the crew. He'd tried to arrange shore leave for them all on Earth, but failing that, had secured three days on Risa in the Beta Quadrant that would fall some time early in the new year. At the time many Terrans traditionally celebrated Christmas they would orbiting Coridan III to oversee the lapsed trade negotiations between the Orions and the Coridanites. The two peoples had been trading for centuries and would continue to do so for many more, but occasionally bureaucracy would rear its head and talks would stall.

The Enterprise had been thrown in the deep end following its departure from Earth, spending most of the following months patrolling the Neutral Zone, assisting with the establishment of a Vulcan colony and actively discouraging those who wished to take advantage of the Federation's crippled Fleet. The negotiations were considered suitably risk free enough to ease them into more diplomatic endeavors.

Jim was dreading it, and so his attention was turned on something he could distract himself with – namely driving his crew around the bend.

"I wouldn't bother." Ensign Kevin Riley said consolingly as Chekov stared down at his PADD in despair. "Jim's always had a thing for Christmas."

Jim's senior crew, along with Ensign Riley, who worked closely with Chekov in Stellar Cartography, and Ensign Thomas Leighton, who had become Spock's shadow in the Science Department, were all sat around one of the long tables in the commissary. Even on a ship as informal as Jim's, Junior Officers and Senior Officers did not share a Mess, so after mealtimes they often found themselves gravitating to one of the shared social spaces to swap notes, relax, and commiserate.

The only people missing were the Captain himself, and Spock. The former had been in a conference with Admiral Pike for close to three hours. The later currently had the Con. despite his shift ending the same time as theirs had.

Commiserations were on the cards tonight. Jim had given Chekov the unenviable task of correlating all of his accumulated data in order to best establish what practices should be incorporated into his party plans. He'd spent the last hour bemoaning as much to Riley, who had been a patient ear right up to the point where they all suggested trying to change Jim's mind.

"It won't happen." McCoy swore. "I'm telling you, that man can barely tell you what day of the week it is but do not come between him and Christmas."

"It just seems like such a strange holiday for him to be so fixated on." Uhura had a lute in her lap and was absently strumming the strings. "I'd expect this sort of thing around Valentines day, but Christmas?"

"You mean the chance to run around like a hyperactive child, decking halls and generally causing all kinds of mayhem and confusion?" Sulu asked, "I'd say it's got Jim Kirk written all over it."

"He's no really going to deck the halls is he? Because that'll cause havoc with the filtration system." Scott frowned up at the vent over his head. "And I'm no really sure it's regulation."

Uhura lifted one delicate eyebrow. "You mean like that distillery you don't have in the Jefferies Tube?"

Scott's face was innocence personified. "Say what now?"

"I don't think it's a bad idea." Sulu said. "I mean, what can it hurt? It's been a crazy few months and it'll be good to kick back."

"Aye, you say that now…" Scott muttered. "Just wait."

"We do owe him." Uhura looked them all in the eye. "He took the blame for the whole SSK11 mess, and they really chewed him a new one for that."

"Taking the blame is his job." McCoy snorted. "If you're going to get on board with his insanity at least do it because you know it'll make him happy and not because you feel guilty."

"Will it?" Chekov looked up from the PADD. "Will it make the Keptain happy?"

McCoy sighed. He could see it in his mind, the first Christmas he and Jim had shared. It had been an accident – his shuttle to Savannah grounded by sheets of thick snow – the last person he had expected to find still in the Academy dorms was Jim.

"Look," he sighed, wondering how much to reveal. He knew that if they really wanted to, they could kill Jim's little festive mission dead. Then he'd be the one picking up the pieces of a man who tried really hard to pretend that nothing ever effected him. They sensed his hesitation and leaned in closer. He knew more about Jim Kirk than any of them there, save perhaps Tommy and Kevin, and they would never speak of the things they knew. He was often their eyes into Jim's odd little world, and they sensed an insight into him they longed for.

"Please," Chekov said earnestly.

McCoy rubbed his eyes. "Christmas is a big deal to Jim. It's not like his birthday was ever going to be fun and games," several of them looked down briefly, remembering, "It was always too much for his mom to handle. But Christmas, no matter where they were or what they were doing, Winnona Kirk made sure she gave her boys Christmas…"


	2. Chapter 2

From the eager looks on the faces of the officers around him, McCoy knew he'd have a captive audience. The walking enigma that was their Captain always inspired their curiosity and only their respect for Jim kept them from actively probing into his past.

Thanks largely McCoy suspected to Uhura, there had been a silent agreement among them all that they would ask no questions and expect no answers, which was funny in a way because Jim never had any problems talking about himself so long as he was the one who picked the topic.

Jim had been drunk when he'd told McCoy about his last Christmas with his family, but it had been a mellow, happy kind of drunk that usually followed some success or other, and not like the terrifying time he'd given himself alcohol poisoning in the space of two hours. McCoy still didn't like to think about that, even now, knowing why.

Telling Jim's crew this little slice of his childhood would do no harm. It was actually oddly adorable, in a strange, screwed up Kirk kind of way, and it was one of the few times McCoy could say that he got why Jim still idolized his family.

"Well?" Uhura probed.

"Hold your horses damnit." McCoy said gruffly, trying to remember exactly where the story had begun.

He remembered that Jim had been travelling with his brother and mother on the USS Winchester to an outposting on the edge of the Beta Quadrant…

* * *

Jim Kirk was ten years old, and not likely going to see eleven. If the head injury he'd managed to acquire didn't kill him, then his mom certainly would. If there was anything left once she was done with him – and he doubted it, Winona Kirk was a terrifyingly thorough woman – then no doubt Sam would be happy to finish the job.

Whimpering, he raised his hand to feel his head. His fingers came back sticky and he stared at them in bemusement. It didn't hurt at all, but the blood was his and from the dent he'd left in the side of the control panel, he could only imagine what damage he'd done to his skull.

He was smart enough to know that it should hurt – it should hurt a lot. The fact that it didn't should alarm him. He should be worried. He wasn't, not about that, and only about the aforementioned confrontation with his mother.

He had already been late for dinner when the alarm had sounded and the small storage space off Engineering Bay D had gone into lockdown. She'd probably already be looking for him because as well as being thorough, she was also what Captain Barnett called a 'crazy, paranoid bitch', although he had to pretend he'd never heard the Captain say so.

He could smell something burning nearby and tried to turn his head. Instantly pain shot down his spine and across his back. It was agonizing and tears started to roll involuntarily down his cheeks. It was several long minutes before the pain subsided and longer still before he could work up the strength not to cry.

When he was finally able to breath steadily again, he tried again to move, this time more slowly. It was an effort, but eventually he twisted his body up against the corner of the main computer terminal for the room. The burning he'd smelt was the replicator, which must have blown. The electrical fire had sparked, spreading across the room, fueled by all of Jim's painstaking work.

Christmas was a special time in the Kirk household. It was a time when his mom lost the lines of stress around her eyes, and his brother laughed until he cried and Jim knew for certain that for one day at least, the three of them would never be separated. Usually they spent the week leading up to it in a slowly building bubble of excitement. They'd decorate whatever space they were living in and stay up late into the night, not talking about lessons or people or the ship they were on, but stories that were wild and exciting, ancient and impossible, but every bit the foundation of Jim's dreams.

This year though, there had been no stories, no excitement and no dreams. Jim wasn't even sure what was different, only that his mother spent even less time with them than usual, and Sam barely spoke to anyone, let alone his annoying little brother.

Jim didn't mean to be annoying, but apparently he couldn't help it. If he knew what it was that he did that made Sam so mad, he'd stop, but his brother hadn't said two words to him in the last week and _The Winchester _provided more than enough space for him to avoid Jim's company.

So Jim had taken it on himself. His mom was busy and always stressed and tired, and Sam was a teenager and teenagers got weird sometimes, even Jim knew that. So he'd man up and arrange things himself.

He'd wanted to decorate their rooms, but then that would have killed the surprise. So instead he'd asked Captain Barnett if he could decorate one of the unused storage rooms. He knew it was unused because they had just dropped supplies off on Ira Delta, and they weren't due to pick up more until the docked at Space Station K11 in the new year. The Chief Engineer and CMO had commandeered one already, though Jim wasn't sure what they did in there, but there were several more empty spaces and he only needed to one for a week or so. He'd said as much to the Captain, who had twitched a smile Jim didn't even know he was capable of making and given him permission.

* * *

"Ach, who thought it'd be a good idea to let a wee Kirk wander around Engineering unsupervised?" Scotty exclaimed, interrupting McCoy's retelling with a dramatic shudder.

McCoy shrugged his shoulders. There was a lot about the way Jim was raised that went against every instinct he had as a parent. Some things made sense. Others though…

"Apparently that was his first concussion." The slightly nostalgic look on Jim's face at the recollection had been as amusing as it was alarming.

"Jesus." Sulu shook his head. "Start as you mean to continue, I guess."

"I knew he must have been dropped on his head as a child." Uhura muttered darkly.

"You plan on letting me finish?" McCoy glared them all into silence.

* * *

After dinner every night for the following week, Jim had snuck down to decorate the space. It took some time – he wasn't the tallest of kids for his age, and the decorations he programmed the replicator to make were fiddly and cumbersome, but they looked pretty and included all of mom and Sam's favorite things.

Jim had been finishing the last few touches and planning on how to lure them down when everything had suddenly lurched. He'd fallen from the edge of the table and gone down hard.

Seeing his precious work destroyed hurt more than anything else and the tears came fresh.

"_Ji- mmy? Jimmy? C-can you – you, hear, me?"_ The static buzz Jim had noticed before suddenly cleared and Sam's voice was suddenly bellowing brokenly in Jim's ear. He jumped in fright and his vision blacked over.

When he came to again, Sam was still talking and someone was banging on the buckled doorframe behind him. The smoke was much thicker now and the fire didn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping. The sprinkler system should have come on already, showering the room with dry powder. It didn't. A computer glitch, Jim guessed.

"_-and then mom pushed him off the wall and into the river? You remember that? Man, that was the best Christmas ever." _Sam said over the comm.

Jim tried to remember and suddenly grinned. It made his face hurt, but he recalled the time, a year ago, when they were on shore for Christmas and Winona had taken her boys to an old fashioned market. Jim had been so distracted by the lights and sounds he'd wandered off. To be fair, the man who had taken his arm and pulled him to the edge of the market had probably been only trying to help him, but Winona had knocked out two of his teeth anyway before shoving him none to gently into the freezing cold river running alongside the town.

She'd been furious with Jim, but he and Sam had privately found the whole thing terribly funny. They'd both enjoyed her undivided attention that year and it had lasted even longer than usual.

"Sam?" Jim would have given anything for his brother to be there right then. Sam was fun and loud and boisterous and exciting and always knew how to cheer Jim up. When Jim grew up, he was going to be just like Sam.

"_Jimmy? Oh my god, are you ok? Why didn't you talk to me? Jimmy?"_

Jim meant to tell his brother he was alright, he really did. He opened his mouth though, and the only word that came out was "Mom?"

"_Jim? Son, it's Captain Barnett." _Oh crap. Jim was in so much trouble. "_Are you hurt?"_

"Head hurts." Jim said. It did now, and he wondered why he'd been worried when it hadn't. He'd take no pain any day of the week. Beyond the door, the banging continued.

"_Can you get to the console?"_

"It's broken," Jim looked up at the sparking mess of wires.

"_Ok, listen closely Jim. We're trying to get the door open, but the frame has buckled and the computer malfunction has locked us out manually. Now your mom and Doctor Puri are trying to get to you from the vents. One way or another we will get you out."_

"Ok." Jim said, believing him without question. His mom very rarely had nice things to say about anyone, but she said less nasty things about Barnett than most, which meant she respected him. Jim trusted that.

"_Jimmy_? _Can you hear me?" _Sam was back. Jim smiled tiredly.

"Yeah."

"_What were you doing down here? You were supposed to be home with us?"_

"I was decorating." Jim said as if that was a perfectly good excuse. It was the best he had.

"_What_?"

"It's Christmas." Jim sniffled.

"_Oh_ _Jimmy_…"

* * *

"God, wee bastard was breaking hearts even at ten." Scotty shook his head sadly.

McCoy took the chance to freshen his coffee. It was no secret between him and Jim that McCoy thought all kinds of bad things about Sam Kirk, but Jim wouldn't hear a single bad thing about either his brother or his mother. It was stories like this one that reminded McCoy that Jim wasn't the only character in the Kirk family tragedy; that Sam lost his parents as well and acted in a way any grieving child could be forgiven for.

Chekov began to mutter to himself and poked the PADD in his hands viciously.

"Pavel, what are you-" Sulu started to ask.

Chekov batted him away with his hand. "Keep talking, Doctor." He implored. "I vant to hear happy end, ya?"

"Assuming it has one." Uhura said softly.

"Oh it does." McCoy promised. "I know everyone talks about what a great man George Kirk was, but I don't think anyone thinks about what kind of woman that man would marry. I swear, if there was one person I could go back in time and meet, it would be Winona Kirk." For several reasons.

"I think it would take something special to raise Jim." Uhura couldn't help but smile. "She was a good mom?"

"She dragged her children across the galaxy on a revenge quest that got her killed." McCoy said flatly. "She was a lousy mom. But she loved her boys, and she was fierce…"

* * *

Sam continued to talk to Jim long after Jim lost the energy to respond. His head was hurting so badly and he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to wake up on Christmas morning to his mom's smile and burnt pancakes cooked the proper way. He wanted to stay in his pajamas all day and listen to stories and tell jokes.

But when had he ever gotten what he wanted?

His eyes were drooping when the ceiling fell down inches from him with a loud clatter. He blinked and looked closer. It wasn't the whole ceiling, just one panel, and a moment later, a woman dropped down into the room.

She looked like an angel. Her blonde hair had pulled free from its customary braid and shone like a halo around her head, and her hand was cool as it settled against his cheek.

"Fucking hell, Jimmy." She muttered. Jim frowned. He didn't imagine angels would swear. "What have you done to yourself?" She didn't sound angry, though. She sounded scared and that made Jim's head hurt more than the blood did. His mom wasn't afraid of anything.

Jim cried out when she touched the back of his head and tried to gently help him sit up. Instantly she stilled and her hand was back on his cheek. "Shush, it's alright sweetheart. I'm here. Tell me where it hurts, Jim? Is it your head?"

"_Mom?"_ Sam's voice sounded hopeful.

"I got him, Sam." Winona didn't take her eyes from Jim. She cupped his face carefully in her hands. "Come on sweetheart, talk to me."

But Jim couldn't. He could barely even keep his eyes open.

When he opened them again, he'd been moved. He lay in his mom's lap, her fingers stroking his hair. A young man with watery blue, serious eyes and facial tattoos hovered over them both with a tricorder.

When she saw Jim was awake again she smiled and it felt like Jim was looking up into the sun. "Did you do all this, Jim?" She asked, nodding to the ruined decorations. Jim sniffed and started to cry again. "Shush, it's going to be okay." She soothed before turning on the doctor and growling. "Can't you give him anything, damnit?"

"I need to get him into an OR room." The young doctor said without emotion. "You've scrambled that head of yours up pretty good, kid."

"No." Jim moaned.

"Either give him something for the pain, doc, or I'll go over your head to the CMO."

"Doctor Danziger isn't attending your son, Commander. I am." Puri frowned at her. "Stop your overly emotional wailing and let me do my job."

"My son has a hole in the back of his skull." She snapped.

"Well he shouldn't have been wandering around dangerous parts of the ship unsupervised." Puri scowled right back. Jim sniffled and tried to press himself closer to his mom. She tightened her arms around him.

* * *

"Please god, tell me she punched that clown?" Sulu shook his head in disgust. "I know we shouldn't speak ill of the dead…"

"I'm just impressed there was a doctor out there who makes you look cute and fuzzy, Doctor McCoy." Riley grinned.

McCoy ignored him. Puri had been a good doctor. McCoy had respected him, even if he hadn't liked him. "Well she didn't punch him but I think its safe to say she did something. After he finished his tour on _The Winchester_ he didn't serve on another starship until _The Enterprise_."

"Don't fuck with the Kirks, huh?" Sulu whistled.

"They are a vindictive bunch." McCoy nodded. "They know how to hold grudges."

"This coming from a McCoy?" The Captain's voice took them all by surprise. They jumped, equal parts guilty and chagrinned.

"You wanna finish the story, Jim?" McCoy said, refusing to feel either. He could read Jim like a book, and as expected, he wasn't in the least upset. Still, McCoy shoved a steaming mug of cocoa over towards him and tried not to smile when Jim snatched it up gleefully.

"What's to finish?" Jim shrugged between mouthfuls of sweet hot chocolate. "Last Christmas we spent with our mom, and I had a fractured skull and slept through most of it."

"Doctor McCoy said it had a happy ending." Chekov looked positively woebegone. McCoy kicked Jim under the table.

"Oh it does." Jim said, rolling his eyes at his CMO. "Just not in the sparkly fairy tale Bones way of thinking."

"It's adorable." McCoy assured Chekov.

"I wouldn't go that far." Jim snorted. "My mom scared the shit out of the CMO, who had just enough professional integrity not to check me out after surgery just so I could do the whole Christmas thing, but not enough to say no when she and Sam turned sickbay into the North Pole." A grin sneaked across his face. "Man, it was perfect. They went completely nuts. Totally overcompensating but I couldn't care less. We had a tree and eggnog and sang carols. It was awesome. The best Christmas ever."

A silence fell on the assembled group as they took in the warm, soft smile on their Captain's face. It lasted only a moment before he shook it off. "Anyway, I actually had a reason to be here that wasn't to fuel your sordid gossip mongering." He turned to McCoy. "Bones! I need you to come down with us when we reach our destination."

McCoy's expression instantly curdled. "Damn it Jim, I'm a doctor not an explorer. I have no desire to be dragged along on another of your crazy escapades."

"It's a trade negotiation Bones. No crazy escapades, I promise."

"You promised that the last time. I nearly got eaten by cannibals." McCoy grumped.

"That was unfortunate…"

"It was a bit more than damn unfortunate!" McCoy could feel his blood pleasure spike just thinking about it.

"That's a yes then!" Jim beamed. "Awesome. As you all were." And with that he bounded off back to his daily routine with his usual hyper energy. They all knew that Jim could and would have ordered McCoy to go. Just as they knew he wouldn't have to.

Once he was gone, Sulu stood decisively. "Okay, we need a plan."

McCoy frowned. He'd missed something, clearly. "A plan?"

"Our Captain's best Christmas memory is of a time he nearly died. I'm not in the least bit okay with that." Sulu growled.

"I'll brief Spock." Uhura also stood.

Chekov pointed down at his PADD.

"I might have an idea or two brewing, aye." Scotty admitted as he stroked his chin. Riley was already hunched over with Chekov, leaving McCoy sitting there, feeling like an idiot.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He asked.

"Distract him!" Sulu suggested.

"Oh right…give me the easy job." McCoy grumbled. "Just peachy."


End file.
